Revenge
by clueingforlooks221B
Summary: This is a sequel to April Fools, so please read that first! Mycroft gets his revenge on Sherlock. (Mystrade and Johnlock)
1. Chapter 1

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this! Enjoy! :)

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A grey tinge of dawn bled across the dark sky. Sherlock Holmes blinked the sleep out of his eyes and looked down at John. His arms were wrapped around Sherlock's waist and his head was buried in Sherlock's neck. One of Sherlock's hands rested on John's back while the other laid on the mattress. John's blonde hair stuck up in crazy directions, and Sherlock was tempted to run his fingers through it to try and flatten it out. But Sherlock knew John was a light sleeper, and they had a long night so he knew John would be crabby if he woke up anytime soon. So Sherlock went to his mind palace, and thought about his most recent experiment.

A distant ringing noise made Sherlock freeze for a second. Warmth left him and he felt like he was being shaken. He could've sworn he heard someone call his name. The voice sounded tired and deep, defiantly male. The voice got louder and clearer, "Sherlock!" Sherlock jolted and harsh light invaded his senses. The ringing continued and Sherlock realized that it was his phone. Shifting up on his back elbows, Sherlock pushed himself up. John growled and rolled over, sprawling himself on the other side of the queen mattress. Snatching his phone, Sherlock's deep baritone voice filled the room, "Hello." Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting a faint glow on John's frame. His blonde hair glowed a brilliant yellow. Sherlock admired this for a minute and picked up his hand to run it through John's hair. Detective Inspector Dimmock's voice made Sherlock stop and scowl, ""There's been a bombing at the Diogenes club. We're having some difficulty locating the bomb. Lestrade wanted me to call you, or else I wouldn't have. He really wanted you over here." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Of course you don't know where the bomb is. I'll be right over." Not bothering to wait for a reply, Sherlock hung up and jumped out of bed. "John come on, there's been a bombing!" John mumbled something into the pillow. Buttoning up his purple shirt, Sherlock smirked, "What was that?" John forced himself to sit up and glared at Sherlock. "It's too early for this." Sherlock just grinned at John's grumpy expression. When he was half asleep his glaring looked adorable instead of intimidating. "Nonsense it's never too early for a case," Sherlock glanced at the clock behind him, "Besides it's only ten thirty two." John grumbled and slowly rolled out of bed.

Walking over to his dresser, he pulled out his oatmeal jumper. Slipping it on over his head, he asked, "Where's the bombing at?" Sherlock pulled on his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. "The Diogenes Club." After John put on his trousers he slipped his shoes on. "Isn't that where Mycroft-" Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Yes sadly but he's fine. The Scotland Yard is stupid, but not dumb enough to not discover missing people. I'm sure that's the reason why Gavin sent me up there, to make sure his boyfriend is ok. I'm sure I'm the last person Mycroft wants to see, besides he can take care of himself now. Come on John. The game is on!" Running down the stairs, John rolled his eyes and followed him.

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Ahead of them was the remains of the Diogenes Club. Some parts of the establishment were absolutely destroyed while other parts stood tall. Smoke rose from the fire that had been previously blazing inside some parts of the building. Climbing out of the cab, Sherlock rushed to the police tape. Holding the tape up, Sherlock stepped over to the other side. Sherlock still kept his grip on the tape, and held it up for John to slip under. Dimmock immediately jogged over to them. "Oh you're here." Dimmock sighed. "Luckily there were no deaths, just a few minor injuries." Sherlock scanned the shambles in front of him. Then he looked off to the side where all the people stood who were in the building at the time of the bomb. Some were simply just frozen there gaping at the remains of the building, while others were talking to firemen. "Someone is still in there." Sherlock stated and stared walking toward the entrance. John and Dimmock both jumped, rushing after Sherlock. "What are you talking about?" Dimmock called out, but Sherlock continued to walk. "You didn't get everyone." Sherlock hated repeating himself and explaining simple things to people. What's there not to understand about everyone not being out of the building? "That's impossible. We checked the entire place twice for people before Lestrade called me. Everyone's out." Dimmock hurried to catch up with him.

Sherlock whipped around and shot Dimmock a venomous look, causing the Detective Inspector to take a step back. "Well then obviously you didn't look hard enough." Sherlock turned and continued on his way. "Wait! Sherlock!" The detective didn't listen and entered the building, leaving John and Dimmock no choice but to follow him in. The building was full of people sorting through piles of rubble for evidence as to where the bomb could be or who could have planted it. "Tell everyone to stop what they're doing." Sherlock halted in the center of the ruined room. "Now, wait just a-" Sherlock pulled his hands towards his head and shook them, screaming, "SHUT UP! Everybody shut up! Don't move, don't speak, just stop what you're doing!" The room grew silent and Sherlock hurriedly glanced around for any signs of where the missing person could be. Some people continued to work once they saw that Sherlock wasn't wearing a police uniform, and Sherlock glared at them. They paid him no attention though.

"Sherlock, there is no one left in this building. Everyone go back to what you were doing!" Dimmock ran his fingers through his hair and rested his hand on his hip. John walked over to Dimmock and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to his level. "He can't search with all this noise, so I will only ask this once. Tell them to stop." John hissed out through his teeth, earning a smirk from Sherlock. Dimmock nodded, gulping, and John released him. Dimmock flung himself back, and straightened out his shirt. "Ok. Everyone, stop what you're doing!" His voice rang through the building, echoing off the walls. Gradually, the echoes died away along with the sounds of their working.

Sherlock ran around trying to locate anywhere a body could be, but there were too many possibilities. Growling out in frustration, Sherlock put his fingers to his temple and tried to think. "Aha!" Grinning, Sherlock pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and held onto his phone. There was a short pause, and soon a distant ringing sound. Sherlock ran in the direction of the noise, his blood flashing cold. He could hear the running footsteps of John and Dimmock behind him, but paid no attention to them. Visions ran through his mind of all the possible worst-case scenarios, and his heart began to beat roughly in his throat. He pushed his negative thoughts away, knowing that he needed to focus on the ringing. The noise became louder and he was soon faced with a large pile of rubble in a hall. Sherlock dropped to his knees, and began quickly tearing bricks from it, discarding them on the floor besides him. John kneeled besides Sherlock, and Dimmock stood behind them. "What's going on?" Dimmock looked over Sherlock's shoulder, trying to see what he was doing.

"Whoever planted the bomb was clever. They placed it here to ensure that he wouldn't be found." Sherlock explained as he ripped through the bricks, the edge of one cut his finger and it stung. Some blood began to trickle out, and John saw this. John fought the urge to grab his finger and fix the wound, he knew that whoever was under the pile needed more help. Sherlock ignored the slight pain of the cut and continued. "I'm sorry he? Who are you talking about?" Dimmock asked but this time Sherlock ignored him. He removed a brick full of blood, but he knew it wasn't from the cut on his finger. Panic clawed up his throat, but Sherlock forced it down. He knew that he needed to stay calm. A bloody hand appeared, making Sherlock's blue eyes widen. Sherlock dug faster, ignoring the fact that he now had cuts on his palms.

The last brick was eventually pulled and he finally uncovered the unconscious form of Mycroft Holmes. "Oh my God. " John breathed out. "Paramedics!" Dimmock turned around and rushed out of the room. Cold, biting panic began to prickle along Sherlock's pale skin. Mycroft's face was too pale and calm. With shaking fingers, he placed them to the side of Mycroft's neck. He could feel a faint pulse, and he released a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. His shoulders sagged in relief and he removed his fingers.

The paramedics arrived and pulled Sherlock off the ground, shoving him out of the way. "Wait no-" Sherlock lunged toward his brother, but this time John held onto him. "Sherlock it's ok, he's going to be alright. He's breathing, it's ok." John whispered soothingly into Sherlock's ear, making Sherlock feel better. John was here, by his side, so he knew that everything was going to be alright. The next few moments seemed to go by in a blur as the paramedics lifted Mycroft onto a stretcher and began to carry him away. Sherlock was about to follow, but paused when he felt John's hand grip onto his wrist. Turning towards John, he saw John bend over and pick up Mycroft's dusty phone. "Thank you." Sherlock nodded and John held Sherlock's hand again. "Hey, it's going to be alright, ok? I'm here to help." Sherlock smiled at that, and gripped John's hand. "I know. I'd be lost without my blogger." They headed out of the wreckage and to the hospital, the place that Sherlock had always dreaded.

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Let me know what you think! This will probably be 3-4 chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

I hope Sherlock isn't too OOC? Enjoy!

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Sherlock sat in the emergency room with John by his side, staring at the white walls. He had already deduced everyone's situations, and was already bored. Every time a nurse walked by Sherlock would straighten up, hoping that they were coming to end his misery. But they would wake straight past him, and Sherlock would slouch back down in his chair and pout. His fingers tightened around the plastic chair, and he let out a growl. John looked up from the clipboard full of information that he had to fill out, and tore Sherlock's grasp from the chair. John squeezed Sherlock's hand, "Sherlock I know this is boring and nerve wracking, just hang on a little longer." Sherlock rested his other hand below his cheek and leaned on it. "We've been here for three hours! How much longer do they need?!" A nurse stepped in front of Sherlock, looking nervous from his outburst, "Um, Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock perked up, and replied impatiently, "Yes? What?" The nurse blinked and cleared her throat, "Mycroft Holmes hit his head hard when he fell and he has a concussion. Because of that, he is now in a coma. We are not sure when, or if, he will wake up. You can see him if you want, the best thing to do would be to talk to him." Sherlock scoffed, "Talk to him?" The nurse nodded, "Yes. Talking sometimes helps the patient wake up." Sherlock stood up and turned to John, flashing him a doubtful look. "It really does help Sherlock." Sherlock frowned, "I'm the last voice he would want to hear. I'm sure he'd defiantly die if I start talking." John eyes widened, "No Sherlock Mycroft still loves you, trust me." John handed Sherlock a bouquet of flowers. "Ok fine I'll talk to him, I'll be back soon. Really John flowers?" Sherlock grimaced and grabbed the flowers. John laughed, "Yes, it's a nice thing to do when someone is in the hospital. Take all the time you need." Sherlock turned and started following the nurse down the hall.

He already deduced her whole life story. Divorced parents, just got out of a serious relationship, has a dog, and is very close to her sister. The nurse, whose name tag read Kelly, stopped in front of a white door and opened it. "He's in there, I'll give you your privacy. Let me know if you need anything." Sherlock walked in and let the door close behind him. Mycroft was wrapped in a sea of blue covers, and looked paler then usual. It could be the white walls flushing him out though. An IV was connected to his arm and his heart monitor was beating. Sherlock sucked in a deep breath and began to slowly walk towards Mycroft's bed. "I brought you flowers," Sherlock began and fiddled with the bouquet in his hand, "John said that it's the proper thing to do when someone is hospitalized. I don't really understand why, I mean, there just plants. What are plants going to do to help you get better? I suppose it's just the gesture that counts." Putting the flowers in the white vase that was on Mycroft's bed side table, Sherlock looked down at Mycroft. He looked peaceful; the wrinkles above his forehead were gone. "It's strange, being on the other side. Normally I'm the one in the bed, unconscious, and you're the one who is talking. I used to wake up and be pissed at you for saving me. But now I suppose I know how it feels to be on this side, not knowing whether or not you will wake up. All the, sentiment, is overwhelming." Sherlock looked at the white wall, not being able to look at his brother anymore. What if Mycroft never woke up? What if Sherlock came everyday, talked, and then one day the heart monitor just stopped? The last thing that happened between the two was Mycroft no longer wanting to talk to Sherlock. All for what, some stupid prank he decided to pull?

Tears burned at the back of his eyes, but Sherlock refused to let them fall. Sherlock shook his head, "No you can't die. You're not allowed to. I'm supposed to die first, that's what I always thought I guess. Mycroft look, I-I'm, oh God you're probably not even hearing this anyways, I'm sorry! Ok? I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm a bad brother, but you have to admit your not the best either. But that's the way it's always been, we're both horrible but it works. I'm sorry about the stupid prank, which I don't understand why you're mad I got you two together after all. If I knew it would end so horribly though, I wouldn't have done it. But, look, just, wake up. Please, don't die. I guess I kinda, sorta, need you." Sherlock slumped down in the chair behind him and rubbed his slightly shaking hands across his wet face. Sniffling, he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Forcing himself to take deep relaxing breaths, Sherlock stared at his brothers still figure. Thoughts swarmed in Sherlock's head, but the main one was Sherlock begging for his brother to just wake up.

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Did anyone tear up or cry?


	3. Chapter 3

This is the end! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this, I wasn't expecting this much support! :) I honestly thought that this would be made fun of, but I'm glad people liked it and I had a lot of fun writing this.

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John bounced his leg up and down, trying to hold in his anxiousness. Sherlock had been in Mycroft's room for quite some time now. John wasn't sure how long though, because he couldn't seem to find a clock anywhere in the waiting room. He didn't think to look at the time on his phone before Sherlock left, and John was trying not to touch his phone since he only had a five percent battery remaining. The door opened, and John looked up to see who would be the next victim that had to come in and sit for hours. It was Lestrade, and John jumped out of the uncomfortable chair and hurried over to him. "Greg! Oh my gosh you must be so worried, come sit down. I'm sure your taking this hard." John pulled Greg over to where he had been previously sitting and sat down. Greg plopped down in the chair beside John and shook his head. "No not really." John eye brows crinkled, but then his blue eyes lit up, "Oh Dimmock didn't tell you? Mycroft got caught in a bombing incident and now he's in a coma, and the doctor isn't sure when or if he's going to wake up." Greg turned his head away from John, staring at the row of unoccupied chairs beside him, "Yes, but I'm sure he will be fine." John looked down at his lap, "It's good to be positive but Greg you didn't see Mycroft. He doesn't look too good. I'm not saying I think he's going to... Pass on, but I'm not a hundred percent, or even fifty percent sure that he will be ok." John flinched when he saw Greg's frame began to shake, and inwardly cursed at himself. After being around Sherlock for so long, John sometimes found himself forgetting what was a bit not good to say in certain situations.

John reached out and placed a firm hand on Greg's shoulder, "Oh Greg I'm so sorry I wish there was something I could do. I guess all we can really do is just wait and-" Greg stared at John, and had tears running down his face. Instead of having a frown though, he had a huge grin plastered across his face. His chest was heaving, but it wasn't from sobs. It was from Greg trying to control his laughter. Soon Greg let out a long stream of giggles, earning confused and some disapproved glances from the people who were sitting around him. John stared at the Detective Inspector, looking concerned and then puzzled. Wiping the tears off his face, Greg breathed out, "You should see the look on your face! I can't believe you guys actually fell for it! I guess Mycroft did a great job, I thought for sure Sherlock would've deduced it. It was a tricky thing to pull off though, a fake injury. Especially with something as crazy as a bomb." John's face began to grow red and he clenched his fists, "Wait, you mean to tell me that this was all a prank? Mycroft blew up a building, called in a fake investigation, and got himself fake injuries in a fake room in the hospital just to get revenge? He's absolutely insane!" Greg laughed, "Well that's the Holmes boys for you. Come on you have to admit, Sherlock deserved it after what he did to Mycroft." John shrugged, "Yeah what Sherlock did was harsh. But blowing up a building and pretending to be dying, really? I thought we were all past fake deaths. I just, I still don't understand, how?" John rubbed his fingers at his temple, he could feel a headache forming.

Lestrade laughed again and shrugged, "Well Mycroft is the government, so he can do anything. I only helped with the police force part. Mycroft paid Dimmock and the Forensics team to pretend to be investigating. I couldn't be there, or else we both knew that Sherlock would probably deduce that I was lying and he would find out that this was all a prank." John smiled, but it was fake and tight lipped. "Hey if you're going to be mad at anyone it should be Mycroft. Besides, you have to admit it was brilliant and what Sherlock did was horrible. This may even bring them closer." John let out a short sarcastic laugh, "Yeah right. Gosh they're so childish. Sherlock is going to be so pissed." They both laughed, but then John sighed, "You know Sherlock is going to want to out do him, and will probably pull another prank." Lestrade growled, "Oh no. How do you out do this?" John shrugged, "He's Sherlock Holmes, he'll find a way." Greg nodded, "Oh man what have we gotten ourselves into?" John grinned, "We're both dating a Holmes, they're brilliant but can also be the stupidest people sometimes." Greg and John both nodded and smiled as they sat in the white plastic chairs, waiting for the two adult sized children to emerge from the hospital room.

~Back in Mycroft's hospital room~

A hand gripped onto Sherlock's wrist, making him jolt out of his seat. Mycroft smirked and sat up on the bed, revealing the IV cord that was not in his arm. Sherlock noticed this, and immediately deduced what was going on. "Oh I can't believe this. You're never going to let this one down." Sherlock ran his fingers through his curls and growled. Mycroft reached for his umbrella that was resting against the bed frame and stood up. "That was quite the sentimental speech, brother dear. You are forgiven. Oh, and happy belated April Fools." Sherlock tried to stand up with straighter posture, but knew that he would never stand as tall as Mycroft. "How?" Mycroft grinned, pulling off his hospital dressing gown. Underneath it he had on a pair of trousers. "How what?" Sherlock glared at him, "You know what." Staring straight into Sherlock's blue eyes, Mycroft shrugged and began to button up his new shirt, "How do you imagine?" Sherlock scoffed, "And you say that you're a minor position. Your abusing your powers." Mycroft let out a short bitter laugh, "I'm not hurting anyone." Sherlock frowned at that and Mycroft rolled his eyes. "You pranked me, what did you expect me to do? Not prank you back?" Sherlock grounded his teeth together, "You said that you were done with me." Mycroft gave Sherlock a tight lipped smile, "I lied. It was all apart of the prank." Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, "You've had this all planned since day one?" Mycroft nodded, and gave a triumph smirk, "Yes, and it appears I've won." Brushing out his shirt and trousers, Mycroft walked out of the room. Sherlock jumped and rushed after him, slowing down once he was besides Mycroft. They walked in perfect sync, stride by stride. Their footsteps echoed throughout the long narrow hallway.

Sherlock scoffed, "You won? Oh please you didn't win! I clearly won." Mycroft and Sherlock turned a sharp corner, and Mycroft's eyes twinkled mischievously. "If you think so." Mycroft's voice was laced with disbelief, and Sherlock could feel his face getting hot, "You don't believe me." Mycroft smiled and stayed silent, knowing that this would irritate Sherlock. "Hm. Clearly not. Then I'll have to prove it," The two brothers turned the last corner and entered into the waiting room. Sherlock stopped and glared at his brother, growling out, "Next April Fools day, you better be prepared." Mycroft grinned, flashing his teeth, "I won't disappoint you, Sherlock. I'll be ready."

John and Greg both got up once they saw Mycroft and Sherlock emerging from the hallway. The blogger and Detective Inspector, hearing what Sherlock said, let out exhausted sighs. "Come on John." Sherlock grabbed John's arm, dragging him out of the hospital. Lestrade laughed, "I take it that it all went well then?" Mycroft beamed, "Perfectly, I got it all on tape." Greg giggled and slipped his hand into Mycroft's, "Of course you did. What about next year though?" Mycroft shook his head, "Not a concern of mine at all, dear. I already have another idea." Lestrade lead Mycroft out of the hospital, beaming, "I'll be looking forward to it."

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Who do you think won? Mycroft or Sherlock? :)


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